JAMES Blademourner, who is the main character of the story and therefore is totally rad, woke up from his half-meditation, half-trance that he had instead of sleep, because he was a Vampire. His lithe, half-naked form rose slowly from underneath the crimson velour sheets, contracting in a slow stretch, like a sexy tiger. Muscles rippling underneath his ivory skin, he turned to his lover, Lorryn.
"By the Vampire God, that was some pretty amazing sex that we have just recently finished having copious amounts of," he said.
"Why yes, James, that was some pretty awesome sex that we had, together," replied Lorryn, her eyes like limpid pools of liquid mercury.
"Oh, sweet Vampire Jesus. Do I return to the orbital space laser defense platform today?"
"Mmm... Yes, I do, in fact, believe so," purred Lorryn, her eyes burning gold because they change color and not because I forgot what color I said they were earlier.
"Since that is the case, I think that it would be a good idea if I got dressed."
He got up out of the bed, moving as smoothly and fluidly as oiled water. He crossed the room, heading for his armoire. He selected, (after deciding to forgo wearing such constricting garments as underwear,) his favorite pair of tight, tight, leather pants, the ones that showed off his marvelous thighs, which looked as though they were carved by a magnificent sculptor. Even the most attractive human man would have wept bitter tears of pure resentment upon seeing those marvelous thighs. They were like, oh my god, you don't even know.
He also selected his silkiest silk shirt. It was of the silkiest silk, feeling like greased butter upon his skin, and was left open down to his stomach, showing off his glistening chest, which looked as though it had been oiled by the nude bodies of an entire harem of willing consorts, even though that was not the case. The sleeves were loose and flowing, like a beautiful river of silkworm excretions, and the fabric was bone white, nearly invisible against James' pale skin.
After he finished dressing and ate a quick breakfast of a roast pheasant, blackened boar heart, and innocent children in a reduction of virgin's tears, James went to his personal shuttlepod, which would take him to the orbital space laser defense platform.
His shuttlepod was greatly like James himself, a walking paradox. It was cool and detached, but full of sound and fury. It was sleek and graceful, but full of untamed emotion. It was a thin facade of cool collection over a seething cauldron of passion and desire. It was large, black, and powerful enough to go all night long.
He flew in his shuttlepod to the front gates of the orbital space laser defense platform. He was briefly detained at the front gates by a security guard who isn't important enough to actually describe in any way, and will never actually be relevant to the plot of the story.
"'Ere, 'oos this?" Asked the guard in a horrendously transliterated Cockney accent. "Aoh, Lord Blyde-moornah. I'm soorry, I shood 'ave knowenh."
And that's the only line he gets. He's as good as out of the book by now.
"Insolent wretch! You dare be so presumptuous?" intoned James in a coolly superior tone. "Be glad there are penalties for killing service staff, elsewise you would be taking a very long walk! Fortunately for you, your death is delayed, but only because it would be too much trouble for me to get the stains out of my clothes. Now let me through, lest I decide that I have better shirts." James growled scornfully, flexing his muscles in a sexy way. Both frightening and unbearably alluring in his cold, detached iciness, James pulled through the security gate, and into the orbital space laser defense platform itself.
Striding down the corridors with the air of a fearsome animal ruthlessly stalking its prey, James swooped into the conference room, where all of the Vampire Lords had assembled, ready to figuratively devour his metaphorical quarry.
The council hall was extravagantly furnished, with marble colonnades standing massive and erect, lacing the opposite walls, and a set of black marble steps, flecked with stripes of silver. In the center stood a large, elliptical table, constructed entirely of purest platinum, inlaid with the most precious of gems, from perfectly cut diamonds, to beautifully scintillating ametrine. Set into the surface of the table was a series of intertwined dragons, their sinuous musculature forming an intricate arabesque, splayed across the top of the polished platinum plateau. Behind the table there were several banners on the wall, each displaying a different sigil corresponding to the seat in front of it. In the center of the table, there was what appeared to be a large fountain, although instead of water it shot soothing jets of placid flames, cascading in a beautiful display of effervescent fire, calming and pacifying all that looked upon its shifting display of light and color. The whole room was lush, elegant, and really, really pretentious.
"Ah, Lord Blademourner. Late, as usual."
"Only fashionably so, Hans." James was allowed to call the other Vampire Lords by their first names, because he was a rebel and was respected and feared by all of the other Vampire Lords, and was super awesome.
"Regardless. We were just discussing the current development on the planet surface. It seems as though the zombie armies are doing raids upon our human slave encampments."
"Ah," James said. "They have, in fact, been known to do that. Now why is this of enough importance that I had to cease my usual plans for the day just to hear you drivel on about what I already know?" He said, a slight and very sexy sneer forming at the corner of his pale, luscious lips.
"Because, Blademourner, they have increased in both intensity and frequency as of late," interjected John Deadly, James' rival in the council of Vampire Lords. "The raids have been happening more often, and when they do, they are more severe. I would think that you would already know that. Or are you not up to speed?" Deadly's self-assured manner came to light in this exchange, as with each syllable he sent a subconscious message: "I'm better than you... Bitch."
Deadly was almost a complete opposite of James. Where James was exceptionally tall and gracile, Deadly was only of modest height, and a more muscular build. James' hair was of the darkest ebony black, whereas Deadly's was copper-tinged, reddish brown auburn, of luxurious shine, a little bit shorter than shoulder-length. It was the kind of hair that you want to wrap yourself and go to sleep forever in.
There was a great similarity between them though, the length of their massively important service on the council of Vampire Lords. In fact, this is most likely what set them at odds so often. Having graduated from the St. Legion Scholastic Preparatory Academy University for Strapping Young Lads in the same year, coming from two of the most esteemed and respected Vampire lines, and being two of the youngest and handsomest ever to serve on the high council of Vampire Lords, they pretty much were obligated to be rivals. There wasn't really any way around it.
"Ah. Deadly. I was wondering when I might see you again," James quipped sarcastically, with a mischievous gleam in his eye.
"It has been simply too long, James," responded Deadly, moving a few paces closer to James. "I wondered if I had seen the last of you last year at the Masquerade. I am relieved to see that this is not the case."
"Oh, but of course," James said, muscles slowly rippling along his pleasingly gaunt frame. "I too, am relieved."
"Tell me, James; how have you been keeping?" Deadly queried, coming in closer to James' face. He could nearly feel his cool breath brush his face, sensuous tendrils of air curling around him in a sensual embrace. "Well, I assume?"
"Oh, you know," replied James, his lips nearly brushing Deadly's. "Same old, same old. It really is a pleasure to see you."
The sexual tension was so thick, you could have cut it into steaks and sold it at fine restaurants alongside a nice Cabernet Sauvignon.
"Ahem." And just as quickly as the tension mounted, it quickly dissolved, melting away into barely-acknowledged nothingness. Basically conversational blue balls. "Gentlemen, the situation at hand. The zombie horde has been attacking our slave encampments."
"Oh-ah-um-er-right... slaves... encampments... umm... zombies... right." said John, still mildly disoriented from James' pheremonal barrage.
"Agh, er, cough." James coughed, similarly affected by John's intoxicating musk.
"Yes... We are planning to send you both down to the planet in a small shuttlepod, so's you can sneak by the zombie's orbital monitoring satellite radar.
"Oh no. Stuck with James for several hours in a small shuttlepod, where cramped quarters will cause us to repeatedly and intimately violate all standard conventions of personal space?"
"Yup." replied the hitherto nameless Vampire dude, whose name is not now and never will be important and is Lars, even though he's a bit character and probably won't show up again.
"Oh, snapdangle!" said John, in a rare example of Vampire swearing.
The Vampires quickly left the Council of the Vampire Lords, John's long coat billowing behind him like a silky cloud of liquid smoke. Upon reaching the launch platform on the orbital space laser defense platform, the Vampires realized what they were getting into. The shuttlepod they were assigned could probably fit one person comfortably, two, if they were ready to get really intimate, and violate each other's personal space repeatedly and constantly.
"All right, Blademourner. Let's get this aggravating and unintentionally homoerotic escapade over with."
"Yes, might as well, Deadly."
"All right, gentlemen? Comfy?"
"Yes, defi- No not really at all." Said James, as Deadly's smooth callipygian backside came to rest against his lithe frame.
"What's that? Incredibly comfortable and have nothing to complain about at all? Excellent!" exclaimed Lars, who is still going to have a minor appearance for a while, because I'm kind of growing attached to him. "ReadythreetwooneliftoffGO!"
The shuttlepod's massive engines gave a brief shudder, and then exploded into a wildly intense release of flame and thrust. James could feel Deadly's curvaceous posterior press against him with great force, in a mildly unpleasant and mildly arousing fashion.
"Ok, this isn't going to work. We've got to shift a little bit." said James, unhappy with the fact that Deadly's buttocks were cutting off all circulation to his lower body.
"All right. If I just slide down a little... Shift left..."
"OH VAMPIRE GOD RIGHT THERE IS PERFECT." intoned James.
"Are you sure? Seems like it'd hurt a little bit. Y'know, on account of me being right-"
"DON'T MOVE RIGHT THERE IS GOOD."
"Ok. I'm just saying..."
"NOPE WE'RE GOOD TO GO JUST FRIGGIN ACE OVER HERE."
"Maybe I should just sit on the seat next to you, save us both the trouble."
"Er... Yeah. Remind me why we didn't think of that like ten minutes ago?"
"No adequately explored reason."
"Anyway, we're here."
"Probably should get out now."
"Need a minute?"
"Oh Sweet Vampire Jesus, yes."
After James recovered from having his personal space intimately, sensuously, and savagely molested and violated, the Vampires set off to Site Gamma-7, the nearest human slave encampment. From the outside, it wasn't much to look at. It was a dull gray blotch on the middle of the landscape, an outsider among the lush green vegetation, an antisocial loner on the field of verdant grasses. Belying its fat nerd exterior, however, lurked a heart of gold. And by gold I mean meat. A heart of meat. Slave meat.
“Oh… Nature. How very... pedestrian.” James said, with a cool hint of disdain in his voice, remarking upon the grubby flora around him.
“I don’t know. It seems a very nice change from our usual environment. Very colorful,” said John, clearly wrong, as nothing can compare to the elegant beauty of Vampire architecture, and because nature is gross.
“It’s too bright. I don’t know why we colonized a planet in orbit around that bloody ball of gas. Good thing we’ve got the shades,” James said, his eyes hidden behind the cool, cool shades.
After sampling copious amounts of the local fauna for taste, James and John went inside the compound itself to check on the human slaves.
"Very well, Deadly. Let us check on our human slaves." James said, gently wiping bits of rabbit gore off of his delicate lips with a fine silk handkerchief.
"Yes. Let’s," replied Deadly, simultaneously dislodging a weasel carcass from between his molars.
The Vampires entered the concrete complex, their noses wrinkled slightly at the overwhelming smell of excrement. They took the only entrance, which led to an elevated catwalk, located directly above the slave pit.
The Vampires observed the slaves in their natural habitat, some running on their exercise wheel, some drinking from the water bottle mounted on the south wall, some eating the nutrition-grade food pellets from the communal trough in the center of the room, and others burying themselves in the premium cedar wood shavings that lined the floor, doubling as both bedding and waste absorption material.
"You there! Slave! What has happened here?" John inquired.
"Buh?" replied the slave.
"James, you're forgetting." James reminded Deadly. "Humans are about as smart as a sack of damp paper towels. And what’s laughable, some of them try to emulate us, in their sad, pathetic way. How ridiculous is that? They should just give up, because they will never be cool denizens of the night. Just stupid sacks of dumb cow excrement with body image problems and facial acne and a stupid name that is Bridget,” James said, taking the last part to address nobody in particular, possibly a hypothetical Bridget.
"Ok. Let me ask again." said Deadly, taking James' advice to heart like any sane person should do. "All right, slave. DO. YOU. KNOW. WHERE. ZOMBIES. ARE?"
"Uh… No… I can’t say that… I do. Uh… Ted… Might… Erm, Sir? Maybe we could talk about improving sanitation? Just that most of us have caught ill from wallowing in our own filth. Maybe you could put in fresh wood shavings?”
"Nope. Gibberish. Let's move on," said James bluntly.
Embarking forward on their expedition to find the Zombie Lieutenant, the Vampires came across a large chasm. The crevice ran deep into the earth, its imposing drop forming a massive barrier between the two sides. Down the bottom of the valley ran a thin stream, running in narrow rivulets down the divide. Lining the gorge were large trees, some of which seemed to have toppled over, exposing their shallow root system. There was no obvious bridge across the canyon, and to travel around it would take days. John walked up to the edge of the chasm, studying it intently. His dark eyes drank in the situation, letting not even the smallest detail pass him by.
James was reminded of his days in St. Legion Scholastic Preparatory Academy University for Strapping Young Lads. John was much quieter back then. He had sat in the back of the class, meticulously taking notes on the lectures in mathematics, torture, cake decorating, warfare, flower arrangement, etiquette, child murder, urban planning, and fine dining of evil. It came as no surprise when he had graduated at the top of the class, being the first person in the entire history of St. Legion to score a three thousand and twenty two percent on his final exams. James, on the other hand, being a total rebel and awesome, had come last in his class, having spent his time at school going to wild parties and kissing attractive ladies on the mouth.
After he had thoroughly examined the predicament, he turned to James to give his evaluation.
“Well, James, we have two choices. We can either attempt to scale the cliff, which would be rather dangerous, and take a while, or we could try to topple one of those trees and make a bridge.”
“A bridge? That’s it! Slaves!” James called out to the cadre of slaves who had followed them from Site Gamma-7. “Into the pit! Your broken corpses shall serve as our gateway to greater glory!”
“Er, James… Never mind.”
The slaves leaped off the cliff like unsuccessful stockbrokers, piling into the massive chasm, their fleshy bodies pounding the ones below them in a merciless onslaught of writhing meat. The cadaver stack grew firmer and deeper, and before long, they had created a suitable causeway, ideal for walking across.
“Very well! Onward! The Zombie Lieutenant awaits!” exclaimed James, excited and elated by the elating excitement.
The Vampires walked along the meat bridge, their feet mercilessly crushing the soft, yielding flesh beneath them. Their heavy, pounding footfalls managed to not disturb the balance of the precarious pile, no matter how forcefully their heavy, black boots pounded the quivering faces and torsos of the trembling bodies, so they were able to cross the treacherous chasm with comfort and ease. It was a certain type of fetishist’s dream.
Suddenly, and without warning, the fierce cry of a battle-horn shot from the other side of the chasm.
“Zombies!” exclaimed James and John simultaneously.
Pouring over the rise like a thick, creamy fluid came a multitude of Zombies, their ornate battle-armor gleaming in the noonday sun. Their implements of war were raised above their heads, and their fierce battle-cries echoed across the landscape. The thing that stood out most to James and John was that there were a hell of a lot of them.
“Oh no! We will never be able to hold our own against the Zombie horde! They are too proud of a warrior race!” said James, clearly characterizing the Zombies as a proud warrior race.
The Zombies swarmed across the horizon, working themselves into a battle-frenzy. They crowded the landscape, filling all corners with their proud warrior battle-troops. They were deadly in combat, (but not like how John was,) deadlier than a bear strapped to a swarm of piranha and crazy-glued to a speeding train covered in rusty saw blades and anthrax. They could kill fifty people with three arrows. They could hit you so hard that it rewrote your DNA. Deadly and Blademourner were no match for them, even though they were formidable fighters.
“Oh, no," said Deadly.
The Zombies had nocked their bows, storing energy for the explosive release of flaming arrows. Then the barrage came. Thousands upon thousands of arrows came speeding towards the corpse bridge. Fortunately, both of the Vampires had catlike reflexes, and they evaded the arrows in a sweet dodge. However, even though the arrows had missed them, they still hit the bridge. It could be held back no longer. Although the bridge had succeeded in damming the flow up until now, it could be contained no more. The bridge toppled, unleashing a torrential flow of fluid in the crevice, reminiscent of… certain… things.
The Zombies were instantly killed by the flow, their corpses instantly turning into dust and ash. Y’know. Like they do. However, with the bridge that they were standing on being suddenly swept out from underneath their feet, James and John were swept away down the river.
James had never drowned before. He wondered what it was like. He heard it was like eating chocolate cake, only instead of cake, it was water, and instead of eating the cake, you drowned to death.
He was thrown violently downstream. He was pounded against the sides of the canyon, and against the many rocks in the stream. His limbs were tangled into the most uncomfortable positions by the rugged embrace of the water. The torrential flow banged him and pounded him against the firm and unyielding sides of the chasm.
The Vampires came to rest on the bank of the river. James coughed lightly, expelling fluid from his breathing orifice. He looked around, and saw John lying on the shore, completely motionless.
“Oh, Vampire God. He’s dead. No. No. No… I’ve got to save him!”
He flipped Deadly onto his back, and began pounding him. On the chest. A slight trickle of fluid came from Deadly’s mouth.
“Oh, Vampire Jesus!” exclaimed James.
He began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, just like he learned in Vampire First Aid Class, back in St. Legion. His lips pressed hard against Deadly’s, desperate and frantic. James was hysterical. He pressed harder against Deadly, their sinuous limbs entwining like an octopus trying to open a pickle jar.
“Don’t you die on me, John. Don’t you die on me,” James managed to say with his lips still cemented to Deadly’s face.
Deadly gave a small moan. He stirred, flexing his lips and arching his back. Then his look of drowsy stupor changed to a look of confusion, then soul numbing terror.
“James! What the hell are you doing! Get off!”
“John! You’re alive! I saved you! Oh, Vampire God, I am so happy!” James said, squeezing Deadly with all his might.
“You drowned, and I gave you CPR, and you came back to life! I did it! You didn’t drown!”
“What.” Deadly replied flatly.
“I gave you mouth-to-mouth, and you came back to life!”
“What. James, you dumbass. Vampires don’t breathe. Why the hell would you give me mouth to mouth? I was just unconscious, not dead. How the hell couldn’t you tell the difference?”
It was getting late. James and John pressed onward, dragging their bodies along, sore from the pounding they had received earlier. It would not be long before darkness fell. They reached a clearing along the bank of the river, and settled down to make camp. They set to constructing a shelter. James took his massive sword out of its tight leather scabbard, and began cutting down the massive pillars of wood. John was tasked with constructing the lean-to out of the lumber. He worked without a shirt, as the cloth began to stifle him, constricting his bulging muscles. The dying embers of the fading sun caught every chiseled facet of his magnificent chest. Sweat dripped in thin rivulets down his hunky abdomen, cascading in a downpour of bodily fluids.
After he had finished felling the timber with the powerful strokes of his enormous blade, James had set off to find food. Naturally at ease with preying on smaller, weaker things, James’ predatory instincts took over. He stalked throughout the forest, pouncing on the fauna with deadly ease. Every muscle in his lithe frame was a symphony of desire, a concert of instinct, a carousel of progress. He returned to the camp, a full grown Kodiak bear slung over each shoulder.
John had finished making camp. He was unsuccessful in getting a fire going, and night had descended. The creeping chill of darkness winded its sensuous tendrils around the Vampires, entwining throughout their limbs in a chilling embrace. It would not be long before they froze solid. They ate their bear in silence, quietly staving off the bitter cold. The temperature plunged, like the neckline of a very attractive and fashionable dress. The chill crept into their supple bodies, cutting off the blood flow to their extremities like a deep winter frost chokes the sap in trees.
“J-J-John. W-w-we’ve g-g-got to s-s-stay warm. We’ve g-g-got to c-c-conserve b-body heat.” James shivered.
“Y-yeah. L-like p-penguins.” John shuddered.
“T-take off y-your clothes.” James trembled.
John did, exposing his soft, milky flesh. James followed suit. Soon, the two of them were completely nude, shivering together under the flayed skin of the bear, their unclothed frames huddled together for warmth, their limbs entwined in a tender embrace. Fangirls’ faces would have melted in a fit of screaming ecstasy.
The night dragged on. John and James did their best to preserve their body heat, often stepping over the normal bounds of courtesy in such a situation. They did what they had to in order to survive.
The day broke like sheet glass under heavy machine gun fire. The morning chill was cut somewhat by both the feeble rays of the dawning sun and the steam rising from the Vampires under the flensed skin of the deceased bear. James awoke from his half-meditation, half-trance that he had instead of sleep, which I didn’t forget about. (Surprise!)
His lithe, half-naked form rose slowly from underneath the skinned bear, contracting in a slow stretch, like a sexy tiger, in an unbearably sexy and self-referential maneuver. John rolled over, now facing James.
“Hey, James…” he began, somewhat drowsily.
“Yes, John. What is it?” replied James, his voice cool and soothing, like a particularly sexy after-dinner mint.
“Put some pants on, will you? No one needs to see that.”
James went to put on his pants. They stretched tightly around his lithe, muscular thighs, black and shiny, as if he had poured hot tar across his legs and crotch. The callipygian bulges of his powerfully built buttocks were obvious through the thin leather, prominent and bulging, in a manner reminiscent of something appropriate for use in a simile.
He put on his silky shirt, its white smoothness transitioning perfectly into his cool, pale skin.
By the time he was done admiring his powerful curves and angles in his reflection in the water, John had gotten dressed, cooked and eaten breakfast, broken down the lean-to, scattered the logs throughout the forest so that they would be harder to track, packed up the bear skins, and plotted their route.
“We know that the Zombies were at the bridge by around this time yesterday.” John said. “Now there are a lot of them, which means that they’ll have to travel a bit slower than we can. They also can’t travel over obstacles, only around them, due to their numbers, so we have the advantage there. We should be able to make it back to the bridge, scale the cliff, and track the army on foot. By my estimation, we should catch them up in a day or so.”
“Hmm? What?” James said, finally broken out of his narcissistic trance. “Right, the Zombies. Lead on then, will you?”
They ran in silence, rushing onward like a pair of wolves on the hunt. They ran much further and faster than any human could ever dream of being capable of doing. They were gray ghosts on the wind, one minute there, one minute not. Before long, they had reached the Zombie battle-army. They crept up behind the proud warriors, hiding behind a small rise.
James was ready to unleash the sum of his fury upon the Zombies, but John stayed his hand.
“James, wait. If we just charge in, guns blazing, we will die. I have a better plan. Remember when we first met?”
“How could I forget?” asked James somberly.
Back, at school, James had often gotten into fights. It was a function of him being a totally awesome rebel who was good at everything with perfect hair. Once, he had manage to anger the entire senior class after an incident involving thirty seven other student’s girlfriends at the same time. He was surrounded, completely cut off from any escape, and the other students were prepared to beat him to death with their bare hands. Then came Deadly. Deadly saw that James could use some help, so they teamed up, fighting back to back, until they had killed or maimed all of the other students in the senior class. The two quickly became fast bitter rivals.
“All right, so like that? The senior class maneuver?”
“You know it,” replied John, a mischievous grin crossing his face.
They charged in, guns blazing. The Zombies were quickly alerted to their presence, and moved in around them, encircling them in a sinister ring of terrifying danger.
The Vampires were well prepared, having spent copious hours in the combat training simulation room, where they honed their skills by repeatedly murdering large numbers of human slaves. By now, they were deadly in combat, especially John, who was also Deadly even when not in combat.
The Vampires stood back to back, mentally preparing themselves for the oncoming onslaught. James and John had totally different fighting styles. While Deadly used hidden weapons, misdirection, and finesse to execute a swift and stealthy kill, James just swung his sword around until everything broke.
The first wave was a pitiful battle, inexperienced recruits who didn’t know how to fight properly. John took them out easily with a single thrown knife to the eyes. The next wave was much tougher, now that the Zombies had a chance to size up the power of their opponents. James finished them off with a flying moonsault.
Finally, the Zombies got wise and stopped dicking around with the whole “send the inexperienced recruits in one at a time until you run out” idea, and deployed their most elite soldiers.
Some time later, James and Deadly woke up chained to a wall in a small stone room, exhausted by the epic combat that they had finished those few hours ago.
“Wow, James.” Deadly murmured, his ribs still aching from where the Tyrannosaurus had stepped on him. “I didn’t even expect that.”
“Tell me about it.”James slurred, his back covered with a light, shiny burn from the nuclear ray gun attack. “Who knew that they could voodoo our bearskins to life and have them attack us?” He managed to say, his eye watering slightly from the electric shuriken wound.
They heard footsteps coming from beyond the other side of the small wooden door.
“James, someone’s coming!” Deadly hissed, the piranha gun injury still seeping burning venom.
He struggled against his chains, but to no avail. He was stuck fast.
In through the door came the most powerfully built Zombie woman that either of the Vampires had ever seen. She was clad solely in skin-tight black leather, just barely concealing the curves and angles of her powerful body. She was built like a professional wrestler, or a weightlifter, mixed with a gymnast, but a totally rockin’ and sextacular way. In addition to the ripped catsuit, she wore a skullcap and a domino mask, which hid her face, giving her an alluring air of power and mystery. In her left hand, she held a flail made of barbed wire and razor blades, and in her right, an implement that looked as though it was forged from the twisted bowels of the 7th dimension of hellish pain. It wasn’t a friendly looking implement at all.
James gulped, and prepared himself for a harrowing experience.
The Zombie woman tortured them endlessly for hours, the pain forming flashes and bubbles of agony behind the Vampires eyes. Just when they thought that they could endure no longer, they found new heights of exquisite agony. They only survived with their minds intact through tuning the pain out, riding the crests of the waves of anguish like a mechanical bull. No human could ever hope to withstand such incredible pain.
The blood dripped slowly from James’ back, from where the barb-wire flail bit into his flesh with its savage fangs and brutal blades. Deadly shed a single tear of liquid sorrow as he was ravaged again and again by the hellish agony baton. James howled in pain, his cries falling on deaf ears. Deadly bit his lip, restraining himself from giving their torturer the pleasure of hearing him scream, biting so hard he drew blood.
Many an excruciating hour later, after most of the skin had been removed from the Vampires’ backs, the Zombie torturer left. Deadly breathed a small sigh of relief and regret, hanging his head in shame. On the floor, between the dusty cobbles, he caught sight of a small piece of glinting metal. A sliver of the terrifying pain-stick had broken off during the magnificently painful torturing session. Deadly tried to grasp it in his toes, but in vain. He turned to James, who was delirious with pain and near the brink of unconsciousness.
“James. James!” Deadly croaked, his voice harsh and rasping from what manly, manly screaming he had not been able to restrain himself from doing. “James, I need you to focus! That sliver of metal could be our ticket out of here, but I can’t reach it! I need you to use your Vampire Bloodline Power to get it for me! Can you do that?”
“I… I think so. Let me try. HRRRRRRRRRRR”
Later, they were traveling through the Zombie encampment. James’s purloined Zombie battle-armor was chafing him around his codpiece zone, and Deadly’s was riding up around his dongal region.
Nevertheless, it made an adequate disguise, and they were able to walk around the Zombie camp undetected. They were walking along, scoping out where the Zombie Lieutenant might be, when they bumped into a guard, in a literal fashion. The guard was annoyed, having had a long day of keeping order around the encampment. He was already a bit frustrated before the Vampires knocked into him, for his boss was giving him his annual performance review, on which he always did poorly, despite being good at his job.
“Hey, watch it!” the guard screamed at the top of his lungs. “Some of us are trying to our job here! Hey, wait a minute, who are you? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before…”
“Erm… um… ah… Stanley. Stanley is my name. People call me Stanley because that is my name. My name is Stanley.”
“Stanley? Oh, hey Stanley! Stan the man! I haven’t seen you in forever man! Listen, you’re going to be late for your shift! You know how they get if you’re late! Oh, you lucky dog, pulling special shift! Go on, get outta here! Go!”
The guard shoveled them over into a small tent in the middle of the field. He told them to go inside, shoving slightly as he did.
The Vampires walked into the tent, and were immediately assailed by a thick, spicy scent, like perfume and cinnamon and cloves and incense. The first thing that drew their attention was the group of seventeen identical Zombie girls on the large, cushiony bed in the middle of the room. They were incredibly scantily clad, with only inch-thick strips of fabric separating them from total nudity. Their faces were quite pretty, and their breasts were massive and heaving, sitting on their chest like two very large things. They were quite obviously the Zombie Lieutenant’s identical septdecuplet daughters.
“Oh. More guards.” Said one. “Feh. Can’t trust daddy with anything. All the time it’s just homely Zombies. No variety, just Zombies, Zombies, Zombies, all Zombies, all the time.”
“Oh?” said another, coquettishly. “And what would you prefer? Vampires?”
“As a matter of fact, I would. Zombies are boring. Vampires are soo much more interesting than these guys.” she said, gesturing towards the armored Vampires.
“Oh, but they’d do terrible things to you!” said a third girl playfully. “They’d throw you down and suck your blood!” she said, a hint of mischief in her voice.
“I know,” said the first girl, with a cartoonishly huge wink.
All of the girls laughed.
“Hahahahahahahaha. No, but seriously, I would definitely do a Vampire. They’re sooo hot.”
James took off his purloined Zombie battle-helmet, exposing his elfin features, his long black tresses, and his pointed fangs. All of the girls gasped. John followed suit.
They jumped on them. And they got down to business. Thankfully, John and James had both received their Masters of Business Administration… in boning.
They slowly teased off Deadly’s pants, and let out a little squeal.
“That’s right, ladies. Three inches for each one of you.” He coolly remarked to the seventeen girls.
“Only three?” James inquired haughtily. He dropped trou, exposing the massive curve of his elephantine phallus. “I myself am packing five apiece!” He proclaimed loudly, the hugeness of his ENORMOUS dong slightly shaming Deadly. “Now let’s do it!” He shouted, his entire body shaking, and his wang swinging between his legs like a particularly well-endowed grandfather clock.
They did it.
Later, they lay exhausted on the massive pillowy bed, worn out from the massive amount of sex that they had just recently finished.
“Wow,” they said. “That was some pretty great sex that we just did.”
The Vampires put on their pants, and then their purloined Zombie disguises. They left the tent, feeling that all was right in the world. They walked on, with a spring in their step. The streams were babbling a merry tune and in response, birds descended from the trees, and twittered a happy song, which went a little something like this:
/Oh, the Vampires got some!
Oh, the Vampires got some!
They’re both feeling pretty plucky
‘Cause they both had gotten lucky!
Oh the Vampires got-/
At that point, the singing birds’ warbling was cut short by the bloody strangled sound of them being messily devoured by the Vampires, the succulent and juicy bird flesh ripped apart by their sharp and unyielding fangs. It was a graphic process best compared to putting a streak in a blender while strangling a chicken with a barbed-wire garrote.
Unfortunately, the messy sound of the birds’ death-screams mixed with the devouring noises of the Vampires attracted the attention of all of the Zombies in the entire camp.
“Vampires! Get them! Kill them! Destroy! KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL!!!”
The Zombies, proud warriors as they were, were whipping themselves into a battle-frenzy. Their battle-armor and their battle-weapons glinting in the sunlight, and their battle-screams echoing into the distant reaches of the landscape, they descended upon the Vampires, their battle-attack immanent.
Hopelessly outnumbered and outmatched, the Vampires had no choice but to stand and fight them to the last man. They dug in their heels, tightened up their purloined Zombie battle-armor, and got ready to fight.
The Zombies wasted no time, having heard of the Vampire’s considerable prowess on the battle-field. They surrounded them, cutting off their only escape route. Then, the ground started shaking, like that scene in Jurassic Park just before the T. Rex showed up.
The biggest Zombie the Vampires had ever seen poured through the crowd. The other Zombies seemed to fear him, as though he was their boss. He walked with an air of nobility, like a king or a baron. The Vampires could tell instantly that he was clearly the Zombie Lieutenant’s right-hand man.
He was big. Like, really big. If you crossed a blue whale with an iceberg with a really big guy, that unfortunate monstrosity would not be even close to how big this guy was. He stepped forth like continental drift, his monstrous battle-boots shaking the entire battle-field. His battle-armor looked vaguely like someone had reassembled an entire school bus into a vaguely man-shaped suit, and then added spikes. He drew his battle-sword from its sheath on his back, the enormous blade glinting in the sunlight. The sword was a solid sheet of metal, sharpened to a rough edge. If the cutting action didn’t kill you, the clubbing you to death with the sheer mass would.
The blubbery mound raised his battle-sword, grinning with an unholy battle-lust for blood, and a blood-lust for battle, but not a blood-battle for lust. That would be weird. The gigantic chili-barrel stood towering over the Vampires, his mighty pork-flaps flap-flap-flappin’ away. He let out a low bellow, his rank breath shaking the very earth itself. The Zombies with weaker constitutions fainted from the overwhelming stench.
He thrust at the Vampires with his giant meat cleaver, his bloated belly a-jiggly-jiggling. They dodged with ease, as the Zombie moved with the speed of a really big, angry turtle. Their dodging only served to make him angrier, and he shouted, his eyes bulging like tennis balls, and his veins standing out like garden hose. He threw his giant flesh-beater at the Vampires, the air around it curving under the strain.
He jumped on the Vampires, smothering their delicate frames with an ungodly amount of cellulite, drowning them in body fat. Just before unconsciousness, James thought quietly to himself:
“OH GOD OH GOD I’M GOING TO DIE FROM BEING SMOTHERED IN A FAT GUY!”
They woke up in chains, again. This time, however, they were not chained to the wall, just to themselves. They were in handcuffs, on the floor in the most extravagant tent in all of Zombie lands. There, on top of an elevated platform, on a large, cushy, throne-like throne, sat the Zombie Lieutenant.
“Zo,” said the Zombie Lieutenant, with an accent that sounded like it was from South Vagueton. “Hyu are de guys hu is up in my beez-nees. Lemme… entreet hyu. De slaves. Hwe needs dem. Hwe can’t eets dis planet’s aminals. Hwe needs de meats to zurvive. Plis. Hyu guys don’ eeven hyuse de slaves fo’ nothin. Hyu zjust hyuse dem fo’ cannon fodda. Hwe needs dem. Plis,” he finished, his head bowed in somber hopefulness, a single tear in his eye.
“Wow,” said James. “That is the thickest accent that I have ever heard.”
“Haright. Hyu wanna play like dat? Hwe can play like dat. Alphonso!” he called to the man-shaped bowl of Beef-a-Roni that the Vampires had fought earlier. “Break dem.”
The fat pile went up behind the Vampires, and with a single deft move, he dislocated both of their arms. This would prove to be a terrible idea, because their arm bones, popping and creaking at the joints, became infinitely more flexible and easy to maneuver, and as such, they were able to shift them through the chains, out of the handcuffs, and around the shackles. James and Deadly relocated their arm bones, Deadly vomiting slightly at the effort.
With their hands unbound from their tight metal prison, the Vampires sprung into action. In combat, the Vampires’ natural predatory instincts took over. Circling around the Zombies like wolves on the fold, the Vampires prepared for a deadly combat. (Especially John.) Whipping out their massive blades from the hidden folds of their skintight leather pants, they charged at the man-walrus, ready for blood.
The gallon-sized Ziploc bag of used liposuction fat grabbed Deadly’s leg, and attempted to eat him, his veal cheeks blubbering at the sudden effort. Deadly managed to struggle free of the rolling mound of cookie dough’s doughy grasp. James thrust his sword deep into the butter tub’s quivering lard panels.
The eight-foot tall model of Niagara falls rendered lovingly in flesh-tone Jell-O gave one final death oink, his corpulent frame dissolving into a blubbering mound of blubbery blubber.
EPIC BOSS BATTLE:
The blood fell like rain, cascading in a gentle caress of crimson exsanguination. The frothy lather of venous expulsions. The invigorating massage of arterial spurt. The Vampires were professional phlebotomists, drawing blood in a skillful and deadly way (Especially John). The Zombie Lieutenant shuddered, the escaping vitality fluid spurting from his arm, and onto the ground in a messy puddle.
Rage flared through his eyes, up his optic nerve, and into his cerebral cortex, sparking the unVampiregodly wrath of the strongest of the Zombies. His bloodlust kicked into overdrive, setting off a series of physiological changes throughout his body. His muscles increased in size and thickness, his adrenaline levels increased to amounts enough to kill several species of North Atlantic whales, and the blood in his body surged even harder, straining against the resistance of his veins and arteries like a horse on a horse-type thing. His veins bulged, thickening to fire-hose type girth. He had a head full of anger, and a body full of blood.
The uncontrollable anger raged out through every pore, blocking out all rational thought with thoughts of violence and rage. The violent rage exploded throughout the Zombie Lieutenant, causing him to no longer be able to distinguish between friend and foe.
“Uh oh,” said one of the Zombie Lieutenant’s aides. “De boss be angry.”
Then the Zombie Lieutenant ripped his head off, and beat him into an indistinguishable mess of gore and bone fragments.
“I’M GONNA FREAKING KILL HYU GUYZE!” the Lieutenant shouted.
James readied his sword, holding it at waist height, like some powerful symbol of his potent virility. He did a forward roll at the Zombie Lieutenant, and slashed at his Achilles tendons with his mighty sword of killy doom.
The pain shot through the Zombie Lieutenant’s calves and thighs like an .80 caliber bullet shoots through playgrounds of schoolchildren. The neurons in his brain exploded into a singular thought: rage. His adrenaline receptors screamed into action, surpassing all known levels of angry rage that had been known to modern science. With the accelerated adrenalin rush, the Zombie Lieutenant’s muscles grew once again, now causing him to resemble a bloated canvas sack full of bratwurst and blood, as angry as a cat that just happened to be absurdly angry.
“AAARGH!!!” shouted the baddest Zombie man in Zombie lands.
The enhanced strength allowed the Zombie Lieutenant to start picking up stuff and tossing it around like a giant ape on top of a bunch of scaffolding. The Vampires dodged with ease, like lightning on top of a skateboard on top of a pair of ice skates on top of a buttered cat. The smooth fluidity of their graceful movements contrasted with the jerky power of the Zombie Lieutenant. Their sinuous sinews stretched like graceful bungee cords as the random detritus flung by the enormous bestial hulking shambling goliath of a Zombie clattered harmlessly to the floor behind them.
“I’M GONNA TEAR HYUR EENTESTINES OUT AN’ STRANGLE HYU WIT’ DEM WHILE I BEAT HYU TO DEATH WIT’ HYUR OWN VERTEEBRAY!”
If you’ve ever seen The Matrix, you know what this looked like. John and James did like, insane amounts of double corkscrew backflips, while assorted things crashed into the walls of the chamber. A piano was leapt over, a crate deftly ducked around, a life-size model of Brent Spiner as Lt. Cmdr. Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation was briefly admired, then somersaulted beneath. The ease with which the Vampires evaded his attacks only further enraged the Zombie Lieutenant, causing another spike in blood pressure. The higher functions of his brain now ceased. He had what would be normally considered a stroke, where blood flow ceased traveling to major parts of the brain, but they were the parts responsible for things like eating and logical thought, so he was aces.
“GOAT-SNIFFING ELBERMUNGS!” shouted the Lieutenant, swearing uncontrollably. “BAGEL-MOTHERING WIZARD LICKING MONKEY NIPPLES! PERNICIOUS AND ODIOUS RACE OF VERMIN!”
He could not control his already uncontainable rage any longer. He went in for the kill, about ready to rend the Vampires’ supple limbs from their sinuous frames like thin strands of salty man-taffy. John did a front-flip over his head, and smacked him in the back with the blade of his knife. The ultimate insult.
The rage was too much for the Zombie Lieutenant to handle. His blood pressure went through the roof, skyrocketing to astronomical proportions. His veins could not hold the pressure, and burst under the strain. His body instantly exploded, flooding the entire chamber with scarlet life extract.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!” shouted the Zombie Lieutenant, exploding into a cloud of salty crimson mist.
“Ew. Gross. Zombie fluids are everywhere.” John said.
“Oh, Vampire God, John! The whole place is about to blow! We only have three minutes to get out of here before the compound goes up in a ball of flame!”
“Why?! What possible reason does the compound have to explode?!”
“John! THAT WAS A LOAD-BEARING LIEUTENANT!”
“Oh Vampire God. RUN!”
The chamber burst into flames.
They ran as fast as lightning, like startled rabbits running from a giant wolf made of explosions and death. They ran out of the chamber, down the hall, out the main entry, through the tents, across the plane, and to the cliff encircling the Zombie Encampment. The fireball followed them like a dim child who is thoroughly convinced that they are its best friend.
“James, what do you think? Can we make it? It’s like a hundred feet!”
“We better decide soon. The fireball is really right behind us.”
“Let’s do it.”
They leaped off the cliff, high fiving each other, an enormous fireball right behind them.